


tell me what you like

by Magnolia822



Series: Ineffably Kinky Husbands (Good Omens Kink Meme Fills) [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Kink Meme, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: Crowley wants Aziraphale to talk dirty.





	tell me what you like

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Silly Goose for the proper beta! This was originally posted as a prompt fill over at [the Tadfield Advertiser.](https://tadfield-advertiser.dreamwidth.org/517.html?thread=428549#cmt428549) Please visit the kink meme to leave prompts and fills! 
> 
> No offense is intended, etc. I'm going to hell anyway; see you there!

“Oh, _Crowley_,” Aziraphale gasps, his eyes scrunched up as though he can’t bear to look. “Please.” 

“Please what, angel?” Crowley moves over him, their naked bodies rubbing deliciously. This is not the first time they have found themselves tumbling into bed together (Crowley’s, this time), but physical intimacy is still new. They are still learning what each other likes. Crowley gazes down at the angel, who is biting his lip and twisting his head from side to side. He doesn’t want to rush. 

“_Please_,” Aziraphale says again. “You know what I want. Why make me say it?” He thrusts his hips, and the friction starts to build. Crowley lifts himself away before things get out of control. He has other plans for the night.

“Because, as I think you’ll find, I do much better when given explicit, detailed instruction.” 

Aziraphale groans and opens his eyes, pouting a little. “You’re a fiend. Touch me.” 

Crowley runs a gentle hand down Aziraphale’s side, squeezing the supple roundness of his belly as he goes. He loves the soft swell of flesh, evidence of the angel’s appetites and all the meals they’ve shared together through the centuries. Aziraphale’s eyes flutter closed again as Crowley pauses above his groin. “Like this?”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Crow_ley._” 

Aziraphale’s cock is lovely, thick and fat and hard between them. A very good effort, though Crowley has enjoyed Aziraphale with a cunt as well. It’s tempting to simply give in and stroke it, but Crowley wants to hear the words, wants to see Aziraphale ask for what he wants. He has waited forever, after all, and he’s willing to wait a few moments more before he gives his angel everything he asks for. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” 

“I want you, my darling.” 

“I’m right here.” And is he ever. His own prick is aching, stiff and hot as the damn flaming sword. 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Aziraphale is tense, his body straining towards Crowley’s to close the distance between them. Crowley touches him again, circling a nipple lightly with his thumb, then pressing in sharply. Aziraphale gasps, and Crowley does it again, working the nub to a stiff peak. Aziraphale loves this whether he’s manifested breasts or not, and Crowley can’t get enough of the sounds he makes, the private whimpers and moans. There’s never been a more beautiful sight than Aziraphale trembling beneath him. Crowley kisses the line of his creamy throat, sucking gently beneath the shell of his ear. 

Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley. “Yes, please, I want to feel you.”

“Feel my what, angel?” 

“Crowley, don’t torment me. You know I don’t. That I can’t . . .” 

Crowley peers down at him, wondering if he’s pushing too hard. “I thought you said fucking wasn’t a sin, that it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, like so many humans believe?” 

“I did not say ffff—_that_—Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers. “I believe I said ‘making love.’” 

“Is that what we’re doing?” 

“Not at the moment.” Aziraphale gives him a piercing glare. 

Crowley kisses him, their mouths opening and sliding together. Aziraphale tastes like milky tea and something indefinable Crowley has never been able to name. Definitely not Heaven. His hair is soft as feathers in Crowley’s fingers, but his skin is warm and human. By the time they pull away, both of them are more than a little breathless, and Aziraphale’s eyes are glassy. He looks a little more amenable to suggestion. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, angel. You have no idea how much the idea of you telling me what you want turns me on.” 

“You’re incorrigible.” Still, Aziraphale sounds intrigued, his cheeks flushing. 

“I want to make you feel good.” As Crowley speaks, he grasps Aziraphale’s leaking cock and starts stroking slowly. He could do this for hours, just bringing Aziraphale to the edge and keeping him there. 

“You do. Oh, my _dear_, you do.” Aziraphale cups Crowley’s cheek with his hand, drawing him down for another kiss. 

“Faster,” Aziraphale breathes against his lips. “Please.” 

“You like my hand on your cock?” 

“Yes, yes, I do, very much.” He hesitates, his blush deepening. “What I would like even more is your mouth.” 

“Whatever you want. You want me to ssssuck you, angel?” Crowley is riding the knife-edge of his own control as he begins to move. Aziraphale looks gorgeous like this, his thick thighs spread shamelessly, hips hitching. A bead of fluid pearls at the tip of his fat cock and drips onto his belly. Crowley could devour him. 

“Yes, do that to me. And . . . please, with your tongue. If you would be so kind.” 

Crowley grins and bites the inside of one fleshy thigh, then darts his tongue out to soothe the ache. “Oh, I don’t intend to be kind.” He licks a trail up the side of Aziraphale’s cock, then presses it into the slit to taste. Aziraphale is so much sweeter than any flavour Crowley has known. He stretches his tongue to its fullest length and circles it around Aziraphale’s head, feeling the throb and pulse, tapping against the sensitive nerves under the glans. Crowley wants to learn every part of him, discover exactly where he must touch to bring the greatest pleasure. Aziraphale watches raptly, hands still but firm against the back of Crowley’s skull while his cock leaks a steady stream of honey onto Crowley’s tongue. 

“Like thisss?” Crowley asks.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale gasps. “Dearest, you’re so good to me.”

“Don’t you dare.” Crowley gives his thigh another bite for good measure. 

“What, tell you how perfect you are? You’re so good, my love, I always knew you were. You’re so beautiful like this.” Aziraphale is almost teasing now, a glint in his eye, but Crowley knows just what to do to get him to shut up. 

Aziraphale nearly lifts off the bed when Crowley takes him in one firm suck down to the root. He holds still and lets his throat work, his mouth stuffed full to bursting. Aziraphale groans, shifting side to side to get even deeper. His hands scratch restlessly at Crowley’s scalp. “Yes, like that, _oh_, my dear, what you do to me.” 

At times like this, Crowley is glad he doesn’t need to breathe. He starts to find his rhythm, fast enough to keep Aziraphale panting and desperate but not quite enough to bring him his release. With the hand not holding the base of Aziraphale’s cock, he slides one finger into the dark crease below, searching until he prods the tight opening. 

Aziraphale gasps, and Crowley pulls off to ask, “You want me to touch you here?” 

“Yes, obviously.” 

“Hmm. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want me to do?” 

“How can you still be so coherent?” Aziraphale says with a frown. 

Crowley, sure his eyes would give him away if only Aziraphale was coherent enough himself to look, is doing his best to hold it together. He simply grins, pleased with himself. “I’m waiting . . .” 

“Fine, have it your way.” Aziraphale flings an arm over his face and says in a long-suffering voice, “I want your fingers, inside, please. And your tongue.” His whole chest is mottled pink. “And then, I would very much like it if you would h-have me.” 

Crowley, realising this is more than he ever expected to get and not wanting to torment Aziraphale _too_ much, relents. “It would be my pleassssure. On your hands and knees, angel.” 

Aziraphale hastens to comply, presenting himself shamelessly—for all his reticence with words, he’s never been one to hold back physically—and treating Crowley to the sight of his full arse, the small pucker between the plush globes. Crowley grabs two handfuls to knead and spread before he leans in to taste. Here, he’s muskier, the scent so intoxicating Crowley can’t stop himself from moaning and nuzzling closer. He swirls his tongue around the little furled opening Aziraphale has created just for him. This particular Effort is Crowley’s favorite. He pushes in two fingers and searches for the spot that will drive Aziraphale out of his mind. 

“Oh, dearest, yes. Right—ah—there!” Aziraphale is muttering almost to himself, arching his back to give Crowely better access. He is perfectly Rubenesque, utterly debauched, and for a moment Crowley is seized with that old fear, that doing this will ruin Aziraphale forever, steal his grace.

They’ve been over it again and again, and Aziraphale insists it’s safe. Crowley isn’t strong enough to argue, but he worries even so.

“My darling. Please. Your tongue.” 

The words push out the anxious thoughts, and Crowley nips at Aziraphale’s arse, the fleshy, sensitive mounds at the juncture of his thighs. He’s never been so hot, not even when he first Fell into the fire. Aziraphale braces himself on his elbows, thrusting himself back as Crowley licks around his opening, tongue lengthening to stretch and fill alongside his fingers. Everything is wet and humid and delicious. He reaches deeply with his tongue, the last vestige of the serpent he used to be. 

Aziraphale’s gasps and moans fill the room; he’s such a hedonist, and Crowley’s mind is filled with gentle teasing, but his mouth is busy. He grips his own cock and gives it a slow stroke to relieve some of the ache. It’s all he can do to stop himself from mounting without any more prompting. Still, he doesn’t want to stop until Aziraphale asks. 

“My dear, I—I love your mouth.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yes, but . . . I think I’m ready for you.” 

“Ready for my what?” Crowley can barely get the words out, he’s already rearing up on his haunches, holding his cock at the base and pressing it to Aziraphale’s stretched, wet entrance. He’s a patient creature, but he has his limits.

“You really are a demon, Crowley. I’m ready for your prick. Please put it in. Don’t tease me. I need—ah!” He cries out as Crowley slides in with a hard thrust. This isn’t going to be gentle.

“You need a good filling, angel?” Crowley snaps his hips at a quick pace, angling just so. Aziraphale shudders, his head drooping between his shoulders, the rest of his body taut and straining. For a moment, Crowley almost sees a hint of white feathers, and he longs for them, wants to stroke his fingers through the soft down as he comes. He wonders if Aziraphale would let him or if that would be crossing a line. Perhaps he’ll ask about it later. He won’t last much longer. “Touch yourself,” he says in a strange, gruff voice. “Go ahead.” 

Aziraphale does, his hand working between his legs, and only seconds later Crowley smells the burst of his release, feels the pulse around him. It’s enough to push him over the edge himself, and he falls forward, pinning Aziraphale to the bed as he empties inside. It goes on and on, and when it finally ebbs and Crowely thinks he is finished, Aziraphale makes a hurt sound.

“More, darling.” 

“More?” Crowley nearly gasps. 

“I know you can give me more.” 

“You’re insatiable, you greedy thing.” Even so, Crowley shifts and focuses all of his will on the place where they’re still joined, and before long he’s hardening and coming again, filling Aziraphale like he wants to be filled and kissing the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Again,” whispers Aziraphale, a hint of a challenge in his voice. He wriggles, pushing back against Crowley’s hips. 

“Are you mad?” 

“Didn’t you tell me to ask for what I want?” 

“Within reason, angel.” Still, Crowley chuckles and bites his lower lip. This time, it takes almost as much effort as holding a flaming Bentley together, but Crowley is always up for a challenge. He pumps and rolls his hips, his oversensitive cock held tightly in the slick clasp of Aziraphale’s body. 

“Let me see your wings,” he whispers. 

Aziraphale shudders, his back muscles tightening, and then Crowley is sprawled upon a bed of silk. He rears up so as not to crush them and reaches out with one hand to touch, bracing himself with his other arm. The feathers glisten and tremble as he strokes. Their soft iridescence sends a spiral of pleasure through his body, from fingers to cock. He can only imagine how it must feel for Aziraphale, how much more intense. 

“Ahh—” Aziraphale is shaking apart below him, coming again. Crowley gives him more, gives him everything. 

Later, they doze. It’s sometime in the early morning when Crowely feels Aziraphale shift in his arms. 

“All right?” Crowley asks him. The answering kiss is soft, almost chaste, but even so Crowley feels himself respond. Aziraphale obviously feels it too. 

He looks over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. “My dear, I do believe it’s my turn to have a go at you.” 

Crowley grins and kisses him again. “Whatever you like, angel.” 

Now that they aren’t being closely watched by Above or Below, he supposes they have all the time in the world.


End file.
